


Valaquenta

by ladyofhimring



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-04-19 03:26:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4731101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofhimring/pseuds/ladyofhimring
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles staring the Valar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vairë

**Author's Note:**

> All belongs to Tolkien, not mine, no money made.

Soft and capable hands fly across the loom. The threads intertwined with one another with uttermost care as, one by one it begins to create a tapestry containing the events that are taking place and by those doing them, elves and human alike.

She does not stop, her hands flying on her loom, she smiles as the desired forms begin to take shape. Today, the scene is one she is sure will have strong consequences for everyone involved; she does not need that her husband explain its importance, something deep within her being knows without knowing.

Beneath her hands a forest landscape takes form, in it, an elven maid dances beneath the light of the moon and the stars of Varda. She is smiling, enhancing her natural beauty; her face full of light and joy and her black hair dances with her movements on the air.

But, hidden from sight, there is an unnoticed voyeur. He is of the second born, he stands hidden behind a tree, but his eyes follow the maid, enchanted with her; but he remains hidden, a silent observer to the beauty.

And Vairë smiles as she finishes her tapestry, now she must start another, and let fate take place.


	2. Mandos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All belongs to Tolkien, not mine, no money made.

He alone of the Valar knows the future.

Knowing the evils that were bound to happen to elves was often a heavy burden; even though he knew his responsibility, he carried the weight of knowing what the future. Nobody knew what was coming, not even Manwë. Nobody understood how much he wished it wasn't his duty, or at least, share it with someone. Oh he had Vairë, his beloved wife, she who was all sweetness and patience; she who could erase the worry lines of his face with a soft caress of her hand. And help him feel renewed.

But today, as he stood in front of Míriel, he is completely unable to tell her what the future would bring if she decided to stay; he could feel the weight of the world on his shoulders. And he tries, he says without saying and waits, hoping she will leave the halls and reunite with Finwë.

  
But she chooses to stay. He acknowledges her decision with a nod as he tells her that she will never leave the Halls until Eä be re-created. Míriel nods and accepts her fate. And he sends her back to her room in the halls, where she is -as of now- a permanent resident.

  
Now he must inform Manwë of the decision taken and now, the fate of several elves has been sealed. And he is again forced to play the role of silent observer, even when he knows, when he wanted to speak loudly. But close he closes his eyes and is silent.


	3. Irmo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All belongs to Tolkien, not mine, no money made.

Dreams, dreams were his kingdom and domain. The only place where races were equal.

He had lost count of how many dreams he had seen many that had helped to create in the sleeping minds; but tonight it was different. For he sat at the head of the bed where silver-haired elf rested, but not dreaming, he had granted her a dreamless sleep for her sake. The horror of what she had suffered did nothing but create nightmare after nightmare.

Suddenly the door opened and, he did not have to look to know who it was. Her family had come to stand guard over her. Irmo looked at his hands, then looked at the small family reunion, and felt sorry, it would be the last time they would be together for a long time.

And he took pity on them, created a sleeping spell, one where they could be all together. One by one they began to fall asleep and, soon found themselves in the gardens, for once the whole family dreamed in peace. Because only in dreams, they could find the lost peace, and only in the realm of dreams, he could stand guard; and he could grant them a good memory to sustain them in the years of separation.

At least, he hoped so.


	4. Estë

Disclaimer: All belongs to Tolkien, I claim no ownership nor make any money.

* * *

  
Estë was waiting. Irmo had told her that someone would be staying in the gardens, seeking healing. And all she could hope was that it wasn't another situation like Míriel. So, she sat and waited, she knew that the elleth who would be coming was Arafinwë and Eärwen's granddaughter, Artanis' daughter, Celebrian.

  
When Irmo had told her the reason why Celebrían was coming, she had felt a deep grief, it was impossible not to feel pity for the family that had be separated, and for that poor lady who had suffered at the hands of Mairon.

  
It wasn't long before the sound of voices broke her out of her thoughts, she rose and went to meet them. The three elves stopped when they saw her and she smiled kindly, trying to set at ease the lady Celebrian, who had come with her grandparents at her side.

  
-Welcome, Lady Celebrían to the gardens of Lórien; I do hope you find the rest and healing you seek.- Her voice seemed to have given strengthto the elleth, who nodded slowly. While her grandparents smiled towards her, trying to give her strength and courage.

  
-Thank you, my Lady.- Her voice was tired, but firm. -I thank you for your kind welcome and I hope to heal, I wish to be well for the moment comes to reunite with my family.-

  
Estë smiled when she heard the determination on her voice, and knew this would have a happier ending than Míriel's stay.

  
-Then Lady Celebrían, do come with me and let your healing begin.- With a nod, she bid farewell to Aranfinwë and Eärwen, she extended a hand toward Celebrían, who took it without hesitation.

  
And hand in hand, they made their way to the gardens.


	5. Melkor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All belongs to Tolkien, I don't profit from this fic nor claim ownership.

It was one of the many festivals where he saw them for the first time.

  
Fëanor had chosen to wear the Silmarils, displaying what he had call 'his greatest creations'. Melkor was forced to agree. They were flawless and perfect, full of light, neither golden or silver, but something in between them both.

  
They were such beauties and all his being sang with want to possess them. He knew he should bid his time, first he would try by getting on Fëanor's side, if that failed, well, he wasn't afraid of taking much drastic measures.

  
For everytime he saw the jewels and their splendor, he craved them. And he could wait, he could be patient, but the Silmarils would be his.

* * *

 

Valinor had fallen into darkness. Ungoliat had kept true to her word and devoured the Trees while he lay waste to Formenos. Many of the inhabitants had fled in terror, save for Finwë, who had stood and tried to protect what was his son's.

  
The fool, but he had died fast enough.

  
And as he stood in the vault, he looked for the treasure he had come for. And when found, he reached for them, taking one by one, he savored the weight of each on his hand, and laughed.

They were his now and no one would take them from him.


	6. Yavanna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All belongs to J.R.R Tolkien, no money made, no ownership claimed.

If someone were to ask her, Yavanna would easily name Spring as her favorite season.

She loved the changes the seasons brought, but there was something incredibly magical about Spring. She could find beauty during the Autumn and Winter months, where the plants, flowers and nature itself slumbered quietly. She loved the brilliance of the Summer, the scents and the colors never failed to bring a smile to her face.

But Spring? She loved it. She loved walking upon the dew covered grass, watch and encourage the seeds to grow. The slow process of trees growing with green and with fruit. She thought the whole thing peaceful and engaging. She was, after all, the one who cared for nature. And to her, there wasn’t anything more perfect that those moments, where she would dance under the Trees’ light and help nature bloom.

Every plant, every tree, every little seed was important to her. And she saw that they never lacked for anything as far as she could provide. She found joy in the scent of the flowers, in the ripeness of the fruit she help bring forth, in the slow growth of trees that provided both fruit and shade.

 

It was her duty to see that nature bloomed, and that those who depended on her could benefit from her work, but above all other things, it was her joy.


	7. Aulë

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, not mine, no money made.

Aule had always found teacher to be a calm time, he enjoyed sharing his knowledge with the elves that came to him for tutelage. He had never been one for favorites, but he felt especially proud of those who worked hard to achieve their goals.

There was an elleth (one of the few ones) daughter of a now friend his, Nerdanel, daughter of Mahtan was one how he thought would soon be well known among the Noldor, maybe even beyond. She was naturally gifted and she sought to perfect her craft with a single minded approach.

He remember when she first arrived at this forge, alongside her father and nervous, no, her demeanor had been one of control, but her eyes gave her away. And he had taken her under his wing, teaching her everything she wanted and needed to know. And as time passed, he was not disappointed.

Soon enough, she started to receive commissions for her work and she had been delighted when she shared the news with him, he had found the news unsurprising. He had always known she was bursting with talent.

Today, he had found her working on a marble piece, a commission by Ingwë himself, for a fountain with the elven likeness of Manwë, he felt proud. She would be of great renown, he was sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> All comments, reviews, constructive criticism are welcome.


End file.
